


The Road to the Heart

by JustNeededAUsername



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And an angel slowly falling in love with humanity, And maybe also a hunter, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Just fluffy scenes between a hunter and his angel, Pick whichever glasses you like, You can read it as friendship or very early romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustNeededAUsername/pseuds/JustNeededAUsername
Summary: A small collection of fluffy, random one-shots that would be too small to make it on screen, but still played a small part in leading to Castiel realise his love for Dean, even if it took so long for him to acknowledge it. The stories should fit whether you believe the angel has a romantic or friendly love for the hunter.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	1. A Light in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody,
> 
> A small collection of fluffy, random one-shots that would be too small to make it on screen, but still played a small part in leading to Castiel realise his love for Dean, even if it took so long for him to acknowledge it. The stories should fit whether you believe the angel has a romantic or friendly love for the hunter.
> 
> Should fit canon. If not, then it’s just imaginary.
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I own nothing but my crazy, little head and the random ideas it won’t let go of until I put them on paper.

It was not his first time in hell. In the early days, when God had banished Lucifer, a balance had to be established between the two opposites. At first, when only Lucifer had roamed in the pit, it had seemed manageable. Heaven still commanded three arch angels against the single, fallen one.

But then, the devil started creating demons. Malicious, bloodthirsty animals who were not limited to the barriers of hell like their master. They crawled unto earth, and clawed at heaven’s gates, though never breaching them.

Instead, earth became the battle ground. At times quite literally, but most often the battle laid within the human race. Between faith and corruption. Selflessness and sin. Good and evil. Which path would the humas chose, and where would their souls be sent for eternity?

When it would come to a physical altercation, the angels would throw the demons back in the fire, chasing them into the flames as the unclean moths they were. On these few occasions, Castiel had set foot in hell, though barely crossing the border once the demons were back in their place. They may not have feared the demons, but every sensible angel feared an archangel, especially one as twisted as Lucifer.

At some point, so long ago, they seemed to reach an equilibrium, maintained by the decisions of humankind, sending some to their torment and others to their bliss. Heaven had almost retreated back from interfering, letting God’s creations make their own choices.

This was the first time he had ever been so deep into the burning dungeons. They were surrounded by demons who ripped at their graces to push them out, knowing why the angels had stepped so deeply into hell, trying to keep them from their target. Despite the ongoing battle, he couldn’t help but to notice the seemingly eternal rows of cages, hallways without ends filled with desperate screaming. It was incomprehensible to him why so many humans would follow a path that would lead them here.

The more demons that surrounded them, the closer they knew they were getting. Their desperate moves revealed the route for the angels to follow.

It was a coincidence that Castiel reached him first. An opening occurred, and he followed the order that all the angels had received; Get Dean Winchester.

When he stepped into the cell, he didn’t recognise the supposedly righteous soul. A dark and crumbled creature stood before another lost soul, blade twisting into the reanimated flesh. The humanoid shape has been summoned not to recreate the human it once was, but to inflict the most devastating pain.

The creature stopped its actions and turned towards the new, unknown light in the pitch black.

Only then, Castiel recognised the tormented human soul. And he recognised that they were too late.

For a second, in an abnormal rush of disappointment, he considered turning around and leaving the lost man in his cell to rot. How could he have given in so quickly, so easily? He had broken like a twig, possibly unleashing hell on earth, and now stood as nothing but a solid shadow in the darkness. Despite the prophecies, how could he possibly be the key to stopping Lucifer?

But then, he looked into the creature’s eyes. Still green, even in the dim light.

He saw the despair. The self-hatred. The confusion. And barely there, a little spark of hope. Even though this human did not know what it was seeing, despite being broken to the point of unrecognizability, it found hope in the simple light in the darkness that Castiel constituted of. And it resonated in the soul, making whatever little light was left in it flicker in answer.

If this light could survive in the darkest pit of hell, despite being tormented and broken, twisted from its own ideals, well-knowing what it could become, then Castiel could put his faith in the prophecy, in his Father and in this crippled soul.

He stepped forward, and the soul shied away from him. Despite the speckle of hope, hell had taught it never to believe anything good would ever happen to it again.

No time to waste, Castiel rushed forward, not caring that the soul scattered scared into a corner, and grabbed it by the arm, summoning his grace to cleanse and raise the soul to its former corporal vessel. As the soul disappeared into golden light, leaping out of its cage, Castiel send out the message; “Dean Winchester is saved”.


	2. A Friendly Offering

The humans’ insistent desire for nourishments was tiresome. Castiel understood the biological process and need, but it was not until now that he understood how time consuming this process was. Finding the desired eating place, parking, walking, sitting down, ordering, waiting, waiting, waiting, finally eating, and eating, and eating, paying, leaving, starting the car again. The ritual was fascinating at first, especially the social protocols that seemed to be followed quite strictly, but it quickly became tiresome.

Once again, Dean had dragged him to such an establishment to talk strategy. Castiel didn’t understand why food had to be involved so often in these processes. This particular place was one that Castiel could not understand that people accepted food from. And the owners had to be aware of the state of the place since they kept the light so dim. On the other hand, they were far away from any alternatives, so since Dean insisted on food while talking, this was the quickest – if such a word could be applied to the feeding process – solution.

Castiel looked around at the other occupants of the place while Dean went to place his order. This only supported Castiel’s theory that the place should not be serving edibles when no waiters were happily taking their orders by the table. He met the eyes of pretty much every other occupant in the place. They seemed to be just as curious about him as he was about them. He got a slightly hostile vibe from them though. How odd that they should find him a potential threat despite him just entering the establishment.

“Cas, stop eyeing the locals.” Dean dropped a beer bottle on the table, drawing Castiel’s attention away from the curious looks.

“I am not… ‘eyeing’ anyone.” Castiel frowned as Dean sat down in front of him.

Dean took a sip of his beer before leaning a little closer over the table. “In small joints like this, out in nowhere, people don’t like strangers, ‘kay? So just don’t look at anyone or talk to anyone. We just eat, drink and get out.”

Castiel grunted in response, annoyed with the illogical explanation, but accepting it. It was his experience that Dean never tried to steer him wrong, though the hunter rarely explained conducts in a way that the angel could understand.

“You gonna drink that?”

Castiel was once again pulled from his musings when Dean clinked his bottle against the one he had just placed on the table. Castiel had assumed it was Dean’s. He now realised that Dean had another bottle in his hand. Thinking about it, Dean was fully capable of finishing two beers, or more, by himself, but Castiel had only seen him drinking one at a time. It was also the most logical way of consuming the beverage. Which led to only one conclusion.

“You bought me a beer.” Castiel stated, studying the bottle on the table, the condensation dripping down the side as cold met room temperature. “You have not bought me a beer before.”

“Yeah. About time, don’t you think?”

“Is there a specific time limit for when one should by another person a beer?” Castiel squinted at the hunter.

Dean huffed amused. “No, man. I mean… But you have been around for some time now, so it just seemed right to buy you a beer, okay?”

“I don’t need liquid nor solid sustenance to survive.” Castiel stated automatically.

“Right…” Dean ran a hand down his face. “But you can drink just for leisure, can’t you? So just relax and have a beer.” Dean tilted his bottle towards the angel as in a toast.

Castiel took the bottle. The cool, smooth surface of the glass felt nice. He tilted the bottle in the same manner as Dean, and the hunter clinked the two bottles together. Castiel followed the hunter’s movements as he took a sip.

The many sums of the different components rushed over his tongue. It was almost overwhelming, but they did complement each other somewhat.

“You like?” Dean asked with a smirk.

Castiel sensed a human protocol though he could not tell what exactly it was. But this seemed to be about more than the simple beverage. Toasting, drinking together, eating together. It all served to fulfil a social need among humans. Castiel felt an odd desire to fit into this unknown convention. “It is… Not unpleasant.”

“Hah! See? Not so bad, huh?” Dean grinned and took another sip.

Judging by this reaction, Castiel must have answered correctly. He felt a baffling warmth in his chest. He took another sip, finding it a little bit better the second time around.


	3. An Upgrade of Arms

“You turn it on here.”

“Okay.”

“And this is the charger. Plug it in when the battery icon goes red, or anytime you have a chance, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And this is your number. If you need someone to get in contact with you, you give this to them.”

“I do know how telephone numbers work, Dean.”

Dean patted Castiel reassuringly on the back to diffuse the angry look he was receiving from the angel. “Hey, I’m no expert with these things either, but we need a new way to get into contact with you with this new rib angel warding you installed.”

“I am well aware.” Castiel sighed.

Castiel saw cell phones everywhere, and everyone made it look so easy. But looking down at the small device in his hands, there was more to it than just typing a number and hitting call. It had to be maintained, kept operative and filled with minutes.

“And now for the important part.” Dean snatched the phone and typed on the device. Castiel peered over his shoulder and watched as Dean typed his number into the contact list.

Dean handed back the phone and Castiel stared down at the illuminated numbers and sighed; “Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t be like that.” Dean cleared his throat, trying to find some encouraging words for the dispirited angel. “That annoying little piece of technology is going to be your strongest weapon from now on.”

Castiel frowned at the small device in his hand. It could hardly defend him against anything. “How?”

“Because now we can call you whenever we need you and more importantly – You can call us. So, when you need help, just call.”

The frown turned into a small smile. Though he felt quite alone, being on the run from his brothers and sisters, the Winchesters made a decent compensation for his loss. Even though he often was on his own, he was not truly alone.


	4. A Watchful Eye

Dean grunted as he took in the motel room. It was one of those places where you slept on top of the covers and just closed your eyes and made sure not to think about when the place had been cleaned, if ever. Castiel followed silently behind.

They had been on the road for 17 hours, following a three-hour long hunt in the woods and a five-hour drive before that. It was well past 24 hours since Dean had last slept, and even though he had hoped to make it all the way back to the bunker on coffee with an insane amount of sugar, he had finally caved and pulled over at the next motel. Castiel had suggested calling it a night earlier, but the hunter was stubborn as a mule.

Dean dropped his bag unceremoniously on the floor and sat on the closest bed. He groaned in comfort, not because the bed was particularly good, but anything was better than a car seat after 17 hours. Tooth brushing be damned. He was not getting back up again.

Castiel located a small table and sat down on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs. He had learned by now not to sit facing Dean while the hunter was sleeping. It was creepy, in the words of the hunter. So, he sat facing the window, his side turned to Dean. Indirect eye contact, check.

“Just three hours and we’ll be back on the road.” Dean was setting the alarm clock.

Castiel looked over the human. His shoulders were hunched, bags under his eyes and the eyes themselves bloodshot. “Maybe you should rest for a little longer than that.”

“Nah, we have to get back.” Dean put the alarm clock on the nightstand and rubbed his face.

“Dean. You need rest.”

“And I’m getting three hours.” Dean slumped down on the bed. “So the sooner you shut it, the more rest I will get.”

Castiel was about to protest, but the clock on the wall suddenly filled the room with the sound of time passing, and he really wanted Dean to have as much rest as possible. So, he shut his mouth and stared out the window. The small, broken motel was surrounded by spruces on the side not facing the road. It was nice. Soon, the clock was drowned out by Dean’s snoring.

Castiel didn’t know how long he had been sitting and studying how the wind played in the treetops when he heard Dean turning on the bed and moaning. It was not unusual during REM sleep, so Castiel ignored it at first. But the movements became harsher and the moaning more distressed.

At one point, Dean made a choked sound that made Castiel stand from his chair to check on the hunter. Dean looked distressed in his sleep. Nowhere near the peaceful rest he had been craving.

Castiel pondered what to do. What was the right protocol? Last time he had watched Dean have a nightmare, Castiel had sat silently on his bed until the man woke with a jolt, and then sent the hunter back in time. Dean had not been particularly happy with that wakening.

Dean turned once more, facing the angel. Even in sleep, especially deep in a nightmare, he still looked exhausted. He didn’t need to be wakened. He needed to sleep.

Castiel had never tried this before on an already sleeping being, but he put his index and middle finger to Dean’s forehead, willing him to sleep and willing it to be peaceful.

Dean immediately stopped tossing and his face relaxed. His breathing became deep instead of erratic.

Castiel smiled to himself, happy with the result. He turned to go back to his seat, only to be caught by the sight of the alarm clock next to the bed. Just under two hours had already passed. Too soon, they would be back on the road.

Castiel cast one more look at Dean, bags still evident under his eyes, even in deep sleep. Castiel made a quick decision, and similarly to how he had pressed his fingers to Dean’s brow, he now pressed them to the alarm. The numbers flickered and then went out.

The angel returned to his uncomfortable seat with the picturesque view.

More than five hours later, Dean jolted awake. He looked around confused, almost falling out of the bed in his attempt to orientate himself. He looked at the alarm clock, hitting it when it didn’t relay any information. He finally singled in on the angel. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel studied the hunter. Even in his confused state, he looked much more rested than earlier. It was almost ironic how proper sleep messed with the hunter’s head.

“What time is it?” Dean answered his own question by looking down to his wristwatch. He flew of the bed. “Damnit! Why didn’t that damn alarm wake me? Piece of crap.” He then turned to the angel. “Why didn’t _you_ wake me?”

Castiel tried to feign innocence. “You set the alarm.”

“I also said ‘we leave in three hours’.”

“I… I didn’t keep an eye on the time… You set the alarm.”

Dean looked sceptically at the angel, and Castiel did everything not to squirm under the scrutinising eye. Finally, Dean shook his head. “Whatever, man. I’ll just brush my teeth and then we’re the hell outta here.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smug smile that spread on his face when Dean closed the door to the bathroom.


	5. A Rm w/a Vu

Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, and essential if Dean was going to be tolerable for the rest of the day. Castiel might not have understood the ritual of food to begin with but experiencing a morning-grumpy Dead had taught the angel to appreciate the time spend on calorie intake, especially in the early mornings.

The whole eating process had grown on Castiel. It was appreciated time among humans, and he had similarly learned to appreciate the downtime in between hunting, hitting the books and driving. It was moments for fresh air, stretching the legs, collecting items to make the remainder of the trip more comfortable.

This was just a gas stop out in nowhere, but it was surrounded by the most beautiful forest, placed upon a hill that allowed the passers-by to look down on the ever-stretching trees. The sun was just rising above the horizon, adding to the idyllic painting.

Dean came out of the small gas station, coffee in one hand, breakfast in the other and a bag around his wrist most likely filled with sweet and salty snacks that should last for weeks but would be gone by next sunrise. He dumped the bag in the backseat through the open window and joined Castiel by the front of the Impala, sitting on the hood.

They sat in silence as Dean dug into his breakfast. Castiel wondered if Dean had challenged the poor gas station employee to how much bacon could be filled between two slices of bread. It was both impressive and disturbing. Castiel turned back to the view in front of them.

“It is very beautiful here.” Castiel broke the silence.

“Yeah. I guess your dad got a few things right.” Dean smirked.

The comfortable silence continued as Dean finished his breakfast and turned his attention to the caffeine.

“You know…” Dean unexpectedly broke the silence, looking back at the car behind them, eyes lost in thought. “We might not live the life of the rich and famous. But they don’t get moments like this either. Out here, my baby in the morning light -” He padded the car affectionately. “- it doesn’t get any better than that. I mean, I don’t know how many times I’ve woken up in the back of this car to a view like this. But it beats any motel any time.” Dean turned back to the sunrise.

Castiel studied the human, the small, satisfied smile on his face. A rare peaceful – and most of all _sincere_ – moment.

“I am not sure my father can take credit for all of that.” Castiel mused. Dean turned towards him, an eyebrow raised in question, waiting for the angel to continue. “I think, the beauty of these moments, may be created somewhat by my father, but they are not truly beautiful until we notice them and give them value, thus making it our creation as well.”

Judging by Dean’s frowning staring, Castiel expected some stuttering or teasing following his philosophical moment. Maybe he misread the situation. Maybe he was not supposed to reply or in any way acknowledge what Dean had just shared. It happened sometimes, that Dean would say something and just wanted someone to listen but not actually hear him. He was about to excuse expressing his thoughts out loud when the hunter surprised him.

Dean just smiled and nodded, and then took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I think you might be right, Cas.”


	6. A Changed Tune

”You enjoy this song?” Castiel asked, frowning at the music player.

“Yeah! It’s a classic!” Dean elbowed the angel enthusiastically.

Dean was in a good mood, drumming the rhythm on the steering wheel. They had successfully completed a hunt, saving a child in the last minute. It was a great victory, leaving the hunter ecstatic with relief.

Castiel didn’t want to ruin Dean’s mood. It was nice seeing the hunter happy and hopeful. It was times like these that Dean would comment on the scenery or passing cars and talk about old cases. But most pronounced, he would sing along in the car with a broad smile on his face.

But this particular song rubbed Castiel the wrong way, and he didn’t understand how Dean could sing along so carefreely. Castiel would have thought that it would bring back unpleasant memories.

Dean sensed the lack of enthusiasm from the angel. Not that Cas normally sang along, but he would sit with a small content smile instead of the frown he was currently wearing.

“What?” Dean asked, looking between the road and the angel to decipher whatever was bothering Cas.

“It’s nothing.” Castiel avoided looking at Dean, favouring studying the view beyond the side window.

“Come on, Cas. Something is bothering you. Talk to me.” When the angel didn’t answer right away, Dean pushed further, circling back to Cas’ initial question. “Is it the music? Not an AC/DC fan? ‘Cause that might be illegal in some states, you know? Or at least in Australia.”

Castiel gave in and said apologetically; “I am indifferent to the band. But the lyrics of this particular song… It glorifies a lifestyle leading to damnation in hell, making it sound desirable. You have been to hell. You know that it is far from desirable. And yet you sing along carefreely. I don’t understand how.”

Dean stuttered for a moment, taking in Castiel’s words. His initial instinct was to just shut down any critique of one of the greatest rock songs in existence. But thinking about it, he understood Castiel’s lack of understanding of the musical history of the song. He took a breath and tried explaining, finding the words difficult; “Well, uhm… It’s just rock’n’roll, you know? It’s sort of the bad boy of music, uhm… I’ve heard this song many times in this car, with both Sam and my dad. So, lots of good memories. I never even connected it to the real hell, you know? And, I mean, a bit of easy living and partying don’t get anyone sent to hell, right?”

“Of course not.” Castiel answered seriously and continued more softly. “I do understand that music should not always be taken literally, though often filled with intentions and symbolism that the artist wish to convey. I know the artist here is not referring to an actual highway to hell. There is no such thing.” Castiel paused for a moment and gave Dean a small smile. “It’s good that you have positive memories related to this song. I’m glad.”

Despite Castiel’s understanding words, his discomfort was still palpable. A minute of awkward silence followed while the song continued towards the second chorus.

“Fine!” Dean huffed and forcefully ejected the cassette from the player. He reached over to the glove compartment and exchanged it for another.

Castiel was caught off guard and instead of protesting, he ended up staring at to the unattended road in front of them while Dean completed his mission, ready to take control of the car if necessary. Though Dean would not appreciate him gripping the steering wheel, Castiel strongly preferred facing Dean’s wrath compared to the Impala facing an oncoming truck.

Soon the sounds from a new tape were filling the small space, now with a different tune. It was softer, no aggression, and a subtle sadness.

“Led Zeppelin. Stairway to Heaven. Also a classic. Should be more up your alley.” Dean informed over the music.

They sat for a moment just listening. Dean was right. Castiel did appreciate this song more.

Then a thought stuck Castiel; “You changed the tape.”

“Yes…” Dean looked at him, brows furrowed in concern at the weird statement, adding uncertainly; “That’s what happened…”

“You always refuse to change the music when Sam complaints,” Castiel explained, “Actually, his complaints usually lead to you doing the opposite of what would mitigate his complaint.”

“Your point being?” Dean was suddenly abnormally focused on the road.

“You changed the song for my comfort. It was a nice gesture.” Castiel couldn’t help a small smile.

“Yeah, well… You are not my idiot kid brother, right?” Dean laughed half-heartedly, more a puff of air than an actual laugh, trying to diffuse the moment. But then he decided to allow for a moment of seriousness, “You’re my best friend, Cas. Changing the song is no biggie, okay?”

“Thank you. I do enjoy this song more.”

“Good…That’s good.” Dean nodded satisfied.

The drive continued uneventfully. Once they finally parked, Dean stopped Castiel from immediately leaving the car.

Dean popped out the tape and pointed it towards the angel, loosely held between two fingers: “Here.”

Castiel looked confused from Dean to the tape. Dean all but rolled his eyes before grabbing Castiel’s hand and putting the tape on it, pressing it into his palm for emphasis; “It’s about time we started your music education. And apparently you are more of a Zeppelin man than an AC/DC guy, and that’s fair. So take it. Listen to some decent music in that car of yours, okay?”

Castiel looked down to the tape, feeling warmth spreading in his chest when the meaning behind the gesture dawned on him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dean cut him off before he could collect his thoughts.

“And if you tell Sam about the changing music thing, I will kick your ass.” Dean starred intensely at the angel, a finger pointing at Cas to underline the threat, before quickly exiting the car.

Castiel looked down on the tape, smiling. He put it into his inner pocket for safe keeping until his next drive alone.


	7. A Meaning to a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick, little bonus chapter. Though there is not a specific timeline to these, I still tried to keep them evolving into a deeper level of friendship throughout the chapters. I would probably had put this one between An Upgrade of Arms and A Watchful Eye.

Despite the failure that was their adventure to a brothel, Dean still tries to expand Castiel’s experiences with human interactions. This often seems to involve women in gloomy bars. Dean never pushes Castiel in the same manner he did in Waterville, and Castiel gets the feeling that the hunter sometimes just does it for fun. Though he still not quite understands why.

Tonight is no different. Once again caught in a small town with limited options, they have entered a small bar with dim lighting and questionable customers. It is a Saturday night, and clearly the place to be for the townspeople. The place it packed. The smell of alcohol lies heavy in the air.

Dean seems to fit right in, striding confidently to the bar and ordering a beer for Castiel and himself. Castiel follows him as always.

At the bar, a female bartender in her late twenties smiles at Castiel and lets her eyes dance down his body. By now, they have been in enough places like this for Castiel to recognise that smile and look. Both he, Dean and Sam receives it regularly. Castiel must have studied her expression for longer than he realised, because she interprets it as interest and leans on the bar. “So, what’s your name.”

Dean reacts to the questions, turning from the bartender he had been handing money to and quickly analyses the situation. With a wicked smirk, he quickly answers; “His name is Cas.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, Dean takes the beers and moves to one of the few available tables in the back.

The bartender smiles wider. “Cas? Is that short for Casper or something?”

Castiel stares after a snickering Dean. He knows that he is putting the angel on the spot, and clearly enjoys it. Castiel clears his throat and politely corrects her. “Castiel.”

She tilts her head. “Huh. Odd name.”

“Well. Uhm… It’s Enochian.” Castiel answers.

“Oh.” Is all she answers, still smiling though a bit more restrained and her eyebrows frowning. She has probably never heard of the angelic language before.

A silence stretches between them, and Castiel gets that familiar feeling that he is missing out on a social clue. Feeling the desire to leave, he says the only thing that comes to mind. “Goodbye.”

Castiel quickly turns and joins Dean. It is a small, tall table where they have to stand, all chairs already occupied. Dean is still grinning. Castiel tries to keep a serious face. “That wasn’t funny, Dean.”

Dean hands Castiel his beer. “Oh, come on, Cas. The girl likes you. I was being an awesome wingman.”

Castiel is about to chastise Dean, but a thought strikes him, and he decides to respond in a different manner. Dean is in a good mood and Castiel can appreciate that despite it being on his behalf. But maybe Castiel can give as good as he gets. His expression softens and he smirks; “Considering your dislike of Cupid, I find it amusing that you take the role upon yourself.”

Dean’s smile falters at the mentioning of the lower-level angel and Castiel grins. He recognises the look from when Sam wins a banter between the brothers. Human interaction is still complicated, and he often gets it wrong, but sometimes he gets it right, and it baffles him how good it feels.

Castiel takes a sip from his beer. He catches a glimpse of the bartender from before when he lifts his head to drink. Their conversation resonates in him, and he turns to Dean with a small frown. “Why do you call me ‘Cas’?”

Dean looks up from his pretend-pouting, eyeing the angel curiously. “Why?”

“The bartender made a wrong assumption about my name when you called me ‘Cas’.” Castiel tilts his head in thought. “Is my name so abnormal that you need to change it?”

Dean quickly raises a hand to stop Castiel from thinking further. “No, Cas. No.” He licks his lips before continuing. “It’s a nickname, okay? It makes your name quick and easy, you know? And… it’s what friends and family do.”

Castiel’s frown deepens. “Family?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, buddy… Like, like how I call Sam ‘Sammy’, you know?”

Castiel ponders the hunter’s words. Dean considers him family. The angel is struck by sudden realisation. He can suddenly see the interaction with the bartender in a different light. In the same way that Dean sometimes teases Sam about ‘hooking up’ with women, he teases Castiel. As infuriating as it might be in the moment, the underlying affection in the gesture now warms Castiel. It also explains why their subsequent banter is based in amusement and not irritation. Dean treats Castiel as a brother in a way that his angelic siblings never have. Not just as a brother in arms, but an actual brother. Something he didn’t even realise that he wanted. Until now.

Castiel tilts his head and studies Dean as the hunter raises the beer to his lips. “I don’t have a nickname for you.”

Dean almost chokes on the beer he had tried to drink while Castiel considered the concept of nicknames. He quickly recovers. “No. Not necessary. Dean is already short and straightforward.”

“You sure?” Castiel don’t want Dean to feel left out.

“Yes!” Dean says a bit forcefully.

“I could shorten your name to ‘Dee’” Castiel ponders.

Dean points a warning finger at the angel. “Stop right now, or I’ll give your number to the bartender.”

It is a weak threat, and Castiel counts it as a rare verbal victory.


End file.
